Ashvall Island was drearily grey. It wasn’t at all like the hot summers of New York City I’d grown up with. Even the cold in Ashvall lacked atmosphere. Back at home, winters were magical. The icy spells during Christmas cast a winter wonderland across the entire city. It had taken my breath away. I missed home so much. I wanted to explore the glamourous boutiques and rustic markets one more time. I longed to walk the city’s leafy boulevards lined with resplendent architecture, but this was my home now. Ashvall Island.
The sea was rough, the Adventure slicing through the water between other smaller steamships as it navigated its way to an empty port at the dock. I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed at my first sight of the island. The wind off the sea was chilly, the mist and spray too thick to see much beyond the rugged coastline. I could vaguely discern a small township, lights twinkling ahead in the distance, before it, too, was consumed by fog.
That must be St Albert Port.
Frederick had told me about the quaint little town. He said I would love it. I hoped he was right.
“Come along, Anna. Don’t dawdle.” My mother linked her arm with mine, weaving us through the disembarking crowd. She was an extraordinarily handsome woman. Confident and poised, she was the envy of many a high-society lady. I’d inherited her long, dark hair and lustrous curls, but that was all. While my mother stood tall, her tanned skin and vibrant beauty catching the eye of sailors left and right, I stood next to her with my shoulders hunched, my eyes downcast to the wooden boards beneath my feet. My mother always did tell me I was too shy for my own good. She was right. Without her help, I’d never have accomplished such a fortuitous match. I often had to pinch myself just to make sure it was real.
We followed the passengers across the gangplank to the wharf. Tugs ploughed their way through the dark water, carrying baggage and all sort of boxes heaped with cargo. As soon as I took my first step onto the island, the dull-coloured sky opened its floodgates. Rain drummed down on us, my mother’s straw bonnet losing its shape, the brim catching water like a cistern.
Her voice was sharp in my ear. “Hurry. I do not want you catching a cold. Not after everything I have been through to secure this match. Mr Wolvercraft wishes to marry quickly. I cannot have you ill in bed the first week we arrive.”
“But why must we marry so quickly?” I stumbled past some damp-looking sailors, all of them shouting in French. My engagement to the love of my life had been long. Three months, to be precise. I desperately wanted to be by Frederick’s side, to be wed, but what were a few more weeks’ wait in the grand scheme of things? We had our entire lives together waiting for us.
My mother lifted her nose ever so slightly to show me she wasn’t impressed. “My dear, matches are not made out of love. They are a business arrangement, and as your mother, it is my responsibility to ensure you are well provided for. You have looks, you are sweet and well mannered, and you possess an impressive dowry, but there are other young ladies out there who have Mr Wolvercraft in their sights. Women with inheritances and dowries too. A man’s affection can easily be led astray when it comes to money.”
“But Frederick told me he loved me back in New York. He wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“Matches made out of love have been ruined before. And do not call Mr Wolvercraft by his Christian name until you are married. Understood?”
“But he told me to.”
“I do not care what he said. You are not married yet. And until you are, you will be proper and respectful.”
I nodded silently. I was exhausted and overwhelmed. My wet shoes caused my feet to go numb, my gloves doing a poor job of retaining any warmth in my hands. The transatlantic passage from New York to Southammon, and then to Ashvall Island, had taken over nineteen days. Mother said I should have been grateful it wasn’t on a sailing ship. Now, I wanted to do nothing else but curl up in a ball and go to sleep in a warm bed, to have pleasant dreams about Frederick and the excitement of our upcoming nuptials.
My mother practically dragged me to the end of the wharf, where we were met by a footman in front of a gleaming black carriage wet with rain.
Disappointment washed over me.
Frederick isn’t here to meet us.
Mother discussed something I couldn’t hear with the footman. We were both helped into the carriage. It wasn’t warm inside like I’d hoped, but at least it was dry. The seats were comfortable, richly decorated with plush red velvet and gold-tasselled curtains. I couldn’t help but smile.
That would have been Frederick’s choice, of course. He does love beautiful things.
I wondered if that was why he loved me. If I grew old and ended up half as beautiful as my mother, then I had nothing to fear. I’d heard the affection between a married couple dwindled over time, but I knew in my heart that would never be me and my Frederick. We’d be inseparable. We’d be in love.
The massive diamond on my finger glistened, reminding me of the future ahead.
I am the luckiest woman alive.
So why, when the carriage lurched forward through the rain, did a strange wave of dread tackle my stomach?
* * *
Frederick wasn’t lying when he said his house was a feast for the eyes. It was magnificent. A beautiful Renaissance-inspired manor, every room decorated with scenes from folklore and poetry. I loved exploring the walled courtyards and expansive gardens. I was accustomed to lavish things—my mother’s profession afforded us small luxuries—but this was an extravagance of a different sort. Even the red carpet beneath my feet, with its intricate gold patterns, was softer than any Aubusson rug.
My mother and I had been at Wolvercraft Manor for over a week. There had been no talk of my marriage to Frederick. No date had been set. Except for the evenings at dinner, or the occasional chaperoned walk around the gardens, I hadn’t even seen him. Mother told me he was a gentleman and would often be detained by business. An absent husband was something I’d need to learn to contend with. But it was difficult. As much as I loved the house, I didn’t want to be stuck in it alone, with only my handmaid and mother for company. The housekeeper and butler were civil when spoken to, but there was something about them that was difficult to define. They watched me often. I didn’t like what I saw in their eyes. It wasn’t mistrust. No. It was—with a heavy heart, I realised—dislike. I asked my mother about it.
“Forget them, my darling,” she told me on the night of the Summer Ball. “They are beneath you and jealous. Once you are married to Mr Wolvercraft, they will look at you as the lady of the house. You wait and see. Tonight, Mr Wolvercraft will be announcing your engagement to the entire room. Focus on that.” She waved her feather fan, though it was far from humid in the massive ballroom.
I danced many sets that evening, but none with Frederick. Was that not strange? After announcing our engagement, he never once asked me to dance. I was disappointed, but rather than letting my feelings show, I kept to my mother’s side, meeting guests and thanking them for their kind words and congratulations. New acquaintances taught me the origin of the Summer Ball. It was one of the most celebrated traditions on the island. Witches used to reside in the Hauteville Woods and would bless the land in a dance. My mother scoffed, but I was willing to believe it. Mother was a spiritualist, after all. If she could communicate with the dead, why couldn’t witches exist? I was intrigued by the stories of the Roma Witch, the leader of the Hauteville Coven. I’d get Frederick to tell me all about Ashvall’s legends when we were married.
The ballroom was a masterpiece of summer cheer. I loved dancing, the sets moving in time, skirts becoming colourful, swirling rows, the music haunting but melodious. It was exactly like the beauty of the Venetian balls I’d read about, the entire party carrying an air of mystery and intrigue. Frederick certainly knew how to entertain, but how much must this all have cost him? I wondered if he would share that information with me.
Later that evening, news of my mother’s talents had travelled across the room. Encouraged by curious participants and onlookers, she conducted a seance in the parlour. It was the first time I could breathe all night. I loved my mother dearly, but it was exhausting to constantly live up to her expectations.
I watched the dancing, but I wasn’t alone for long. A young lady in a superb red gown with strawberry-coloured hair approached, her smile genuine and lovely. My goodness, she was beautiful. And confident for a woman of her standing. She introduced herself as Margaret Thronesby. We talked till the early hours of the morning. We really did have much in common. She lived with her aunt, Mrs Rixon, and had been on the island for two years. She was only a little older than me. Finally, I had found someone I could talk to. A companion of sorts. We decided to promenade the next day in St Albert Port. It was my first adventure into the town, and I very much looked forward to taking a stroll on the beach and watching the seagulls fly. Miss Thronesby promised me we would do just that.
* * *
I settled into life at Wolvercraft Manor. The weeks seemed to drift away. They were going too fast yet, at the same time, so slow. I spent most of my time with Miss Thronesby. She was a gem and a perfect lady. I supposed she had not received any matches because she had no fortune. That saddened me. She was such a beautiful, tolerant, caring creature. She deserved every happiness.
In confidence, she told me not to worry about Frederick’s lack of affection.
“He is not indifferent, Miss Sinclair. A man has a great many things to settle before he weds. Wait and see. All will be set right once you are married.”
Despite Margaret’s comforting words, I was seriously worried that Frederick had changed his mind. Mother grew agitated too. On my return from St Albert Port one day to dress for dinner, I found her waiting in my room. A beautifully wrapped parcel with red ribbon sat on my bed.
Mother’s nose crinkled, as though she’d smelt something bad. “You’ve been walking on the beach again, haven’t you?”
“Of course. It’s been a pleasant afternoon.”
For the first time since I’d left the Adventure, sunlight had sparingly glimpsed its way through the dull-coloured clouds.
Mother snorted with contempt. “Look at the state of your shoes. Sand everywhere. Get them off this instant.”
I did as she demanded, shielding my eyes from her, fearful they’d start to tear. I hated disappointing my mother.
She sashayed over to the window, closed it with a jarring thud, and drew the curtains. “I do not understand why you insist on keeping this window open. You will catch a cold.”
“It helps me to sleep.”
It stops the bad dreams and night sweats.
Something I had never told my mother about. Something my lady’s maid had been good enough to hide.
“Come here.” There was a nervous slip in my mother’s voice.
I was both shocked and pleasantly surprised when she pulled me into a comforting hug.
She brushed an unruly curl behind my ear. “I am sorry, my sweet girl. I am only very… worried.”
“About what?”
I didn’t like the creases that suddenly formed across her forehead. They made her look years older.
“Anna, my darling. Please stay away from Miss Thronesby.”
I pulled away, shaken by her tone. “I don’t understand. Miss Thronesby is my friend. She has been a great comfort these last several weeks. I’ve taken guidance from her and value her friendship.”
“You sew and buy ribbons together. That does not make you friends. Miss Thronesby is not to be trusted. She watches Frederick. She watches you.”
A cold ripple of alarm swept through me. “What are you saying?”
Mother brushed her thumb across my cheek. “Mr Wolvercraft has set a date for the wedding. It will be a private affair. In three days, you will be married.”
Private affair?
That was very unlike Frederick. He never passed a moment to flaunt his worth.
Mother raised her chin. “I believe Miss Thronesby hopes to make a match with Mr Wolvercraft. She will do what she can to break your engagement. Stay away from her, Anna. That woman is a malicious vixen.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. What my mother suggested was absurd.
“Anna.” The icy glint in her eyes silenced me. She moved to the bed and unwrapped the parcel. I held my breath. It was an exquisite white gown. My cheeks flushed with warmth as happiness exploded inside me. It was a wedding gown, one of the most beautiful dresses I’d ever seen. Silk brocade and tulle trimmings. Pearl beading and ivory lace. A long, two-tier bridal veil fit for a queen.
Mother looked down at the dress appreciatively. “Mr Wolvercraft has organised your wedding portrait to be painted tomorrow. After that, he will be attending to business in London. He will be back for the wedding.”
My smile dropped. “But isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the dress before the wedding?”
My mother tsked at me. “Silly superstitions. Anna, in three days’ time, all of this will be yours.” She waved her hands around the room to emphasise her point. “Three days. Stay in the house. Do not accept any visits from Miss Thronesby. Do I make myself clear?”
“Mother, you’re frightening me. I can’t believe Miss Thronesby would do such a thing. And I don’t believe Fred… Mr Wolvercraft would be capable of backing out of an engagement. It would not be right.”
She held me in her gaze with pity. “My dearest girl. You are so naïve and ignorant of everything evil in this world.”
“Then tell me. What gives you cause to distrust Miss Thronesby?”
And Frederick?
Evil?
My mother turned away. She raised a gloved hand to her head, as though she had a migraine. “Be ready at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. I will make sure your lady’s maid is here at seven thirty. We must have you looking your best for the portrait. I will see you at dinner.”
She swept out of the room with that air of indifference she was so good at presenting.
I tried not to let the confrontation hurt me, but my face crumpled in humiliation.
What is she so afraid of?
And why won’t she tell me?